Bart Stirling's Road to Success eBook

Bart stood for a moment in a kind of daze. The
congratulatory words of the superintendent, and the
appointment to the position of agent, stirred the
dearest desires of his heart.

His great good fortune momentarily overwhelmed him,
and he stood staring silently after the superintendent
in a grand dream of opulence and ambition.

“I want you!” spoke a harsh, sudden voice,
and Bart Stirling came out of dreamland with a shock.

CHAPTER IX

COLONEL JEPTHA HARRINGTON

The young express agent recognized the tones before
he saw the speaker’s face. Only one person
in Pleasantville had that mixture of lofty command
and tragic emphasis, and that was Colonel Jeptha Harrington.

As Bart turned, he saw the village magnate ten feet
away, planted like a rock, and extending his big golden-headed
cane as if it was a spear and he was poising to immediately
impale a victim. The colonel’s brow was
a veritable thundercloud.

“Yes, sir,” announced Bart promptly—­“what
can I do for you?”

Bart did not get excited in the least. He looked
so cool and collected that the colonel ground his
teeth, stamped his foot and advanced swinging his
cane alarmingly.

“I’ve come to see you—­”
he began, and choked on the words.

“May I ask what for?” interrogated Bart.

Colonel Harrington shook, as he placed his cane under
his arm and took out his big plethoric wallet.

He selected a strip of paper and held it between his
forefinger and thumb.

“Young man,” he observed, “do you
know what that is?”

Bart shook his head.

“Well, I’ll tell you, it’s a bill,
do you hear? a bill. It’s for eighty-five
dollars, damage done maliciously on my private grounds,
yesterday evening. It represents the bare cost
of a new copper pedestal to replace the one you shot
to pieces last night, and it’s a wonder you
are not in jail for murder, for had that cannon ball
struck a human being—­Enough! before I take
up this outrage with the district attorney in its
criminal phase, are you going to settle the damage,
or are you not?”

“Colonel Harrington, I haven’t got eighty-five
dollars.”

“Then get it!” snapped the Colonel.

“Nor can I get it.”

“Then,” observed the colonel, restoring
the bit of paper to his pocket—­“go
to jail!”

Bart regarded his enemy dumbly. Colonel Harrington
was a power in Pleasantville, his will and his way
were paramount there.

“I am sorry,” said Bart finally, in a
tone of genuine distress, “but eighty-five dollars
is a sheer impossibility—­in cash. If
you would listen to me—­”

“But I shan’t!”

“I would like to offer payment or replace the
pedestal on reasonable terms.”